Status: Complete.
"Face it, dove, I've sparked your interest."
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Alyssa isn't looking for a fairytale; she has a perfect life in California with nothing more to ask for. But when she gets herself shipped off to England due to a major screw up, she m...
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"You're sending me to LONDON?!" My voice had hit the soprano pitch. I knew I was gonna get it from Mom for this but I couldn't help it. This was beyond the level of horror that I could tolerate.
Maybe I should start with an introduction of myself before you see me in 'full on freak out mode'. Hi, I'm Alyssa Rosales. Lys for short, as in Fleur de Lys, not Liz, 'ys', not 'iz'. Yeah, I have to make that explanation a lot. Anyway, no one ever calls me Alyssa unless I'm in trouble. Like right now with my mom yelling my full name in my face. How did it arrive at this point? Long story.
I'm eighteen, just graduated from Venice High, Venice, California. Not Italy, but... you get it. So what happened? I'll fill you in. Last night was the best night of my life. I had, for the first time, thrown a party of my own here at my parents' beachside mansion. I mean, living in a twelve thousand square feet house with a full-length swimming pool and a ginormous lawn does beg one to throw a party that will be the event of the year. And what better way to kick off the end of high school than with a bang at a party? Unfortunately, the 'bang' part also exploded after the party when Mom and Dad came home at midnight from a business trip in Tokyo—yeah, I have always been bad at numbers and miscalculated the time difference. Shoot.
I'm not complaining. I just wanted to break the rules for once. I'm not the kind of girl who lived on a tight leash—that was my Mom actually—my parents were fun, lively, amazing people who never deprived me of anything. But they knew when to draw the line. I was not spoiled, thank God, just—misperceived by a lot of people at times. Am I confusing you? Let me break it down.
You could define me as a 'Malibu Barbie'. I had perfect blonde hair (not to brag or anything) azul eyes and I've been told I'm gorgeous by every boy I've met at high school. I credit that to my parents who also have devastatingly good looks. Grateful for good genes.
I also have it all, you could say, the perfect life, perfect grades (except in math), perfect family, and my perfect boyfriend (at least to me), Kevin. So what could possibly go wrong in my life? One slip-up and I've been exiled to London!
"I cannot believe you threw a party without our permission! Not that I'd have ever given you permission to throw an uncensored, unsupervised party..." Mom had been ranting like that for the last twenty minutes with Dad interjecting an admonition every other minute. I tried to apologize for the first few but when I realized that was futile, I shut my mouth and listened in silence, figuring it was better to get it over with. When they had run out of steam, I'd receive my punishment, serve my sentence, and then everything would go back to normal. I might even be banned from hosting any more parties at the house, but still. I was going away to Berkeley. Or Stanford. Who cares? Either way, I'd be able to party in the U.S.A. on the other side of the country. Until my mom dropped a bombshell on me—
"London?! Like London, Britain?!" I'm staring at my parents, horror on my face and my jaw on the floor. "Come on Mom, Dad, this is a joke, right?" I began to laugh nervously—or hysterically. Because no way would my parents banish me to a foreign country.
